a poem

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Photo by Doriana Dream on Unsplash

If I were a muse
I’d search for her in art galleries
Standing with stars in her eyes
And traces of scars on fingernails
Post a night-long color washing of silver frames

If I were a muse
I’d spot her in Painted Desert
Mirroring textures of sand dunes
With beads of sweat running down her curves
And a Mahl stick adjusting a clammy wrist

If I were a muse
I’d shred her in her own atelier
Like Banksy’s self-shredding painting
While she gasps for nirvana, I’d fill her in with creative urge
Releasing years of repression in a red balloon


The Wooden Shield, Kerala based music band launches its debut single ‘Dream’

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Kerala based Avant-Garde Alternative Rock music band ‘The Wooden Shield’ is back with the launch of their debut single release ‘Dream’ on major streaming platforms like Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music, and YouTube music. The song was conceptualized by Jerry Peter, the man behind the formation of the band for his desire to create and express music, especially the percussive sounds as unique as it can be yet easily perceivable. Listen to the song here at (link). …


scribbles

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If nostalgia had a scent and flavor, it would smell and taste like coffee. ☕️

The slow and whimsical wings wafting off a fresh pour-over invoke colors of relics — a mixture of brown, red, and purple — the color of autumn.

If nostalgia were a season, it would shimmer like autumn (my love for autumn goes beyond the fact that I’m a Halloween-born October baby; let me reserve scribing about it for autumn — crunching leaves, angel lights, Halloween pumpkins — you know).

Nothing soothes my soul quite like sipping hot coffee and lingering in the souvenirs of…


poetry

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Photo by bruce mars on Unsplash

the blue shirt
the shirt has been in your arms
and I hold the shirt against my chest is
how I feel.

the white sheet
the crumpled sheet you dozed off on
and I am wrapped around you on is
how I feel.

the wooden floor
the floor we coiled like snakes
and I am tracing your stubbles is
how I feel.

the black bathtub
the tub we played hide and seek
and I am sketching on you is
how I feel.

the silver mirror the one we stood in front of in birthday suits and I am watching…


a tiny tale

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Photo by NIKITA KUVSHINOV on Unsplash

I’ve never been kissed as a teenager.

She sounded disappointed and despondent. With hands in her grey hoodie pockets and eyes fixed on the footpath lined with bougainvillea trees, she walked slowly beside him. The long eyelashes that covered most parts of the almond eyes hid the disappointment.

You are still a teenager, baby”. His voice was barely more than a whisper. His fingers closed around her arm and pulled her close gently.

She winced and pulled away from a failed embrace. She marched towards the traffic signal, folding her arms across her chest.

She couldn’t…


a story

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Photo by mostafa meraji on Unsplash

Autumn

It was a full moon day. Out through the window, ethereal moonbeams sneaked in with a cool Autumn breeze. Not far away, soaked in the dazzling moonlight, stood the majestic Lalit Mahal Palace, resembling the leading ladies of Raj Kapoor movies. Attired in wet white saree — seductive and sensual.

Lying down on her belly and propping the head on her hands, Annie gazed at the celestial scenery. A single drop of tear rolled down her cheeks.

To Annie, Lalit Mahal Palace has been far superior to all other world’s wonders. Going by the legends, Lalit Mahal Palace…


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image credits ~ @jankolar on Unsplash

poetry

Radhika Puthiyetath

Technical Writer@Work. Recreationally Non-Technical. Inspired by—San Francisco—Muse. Love. Life.

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